Eating in Indianapolis

I rolled into Indianapolis ready to find the good eats. They had to be here somewhere, right? I know that when one thinks of fabulous food, one doesn’t necessarily think of Indiana (sorry, Indiana). Let’s face it: Indianapolis is known for race cars and basketball and not much else.

I spent my first two days asking for recommendations every chance I got. I was staying in a chain hotel, and the concierge made chain-hotel style recommendations, pointing me towards the usual bland American fare that most tourists probably love.

I, however, am not most tourists when it comes to eating. I’m willing to walk as far as my feet will take me to find great craft cocktail bars and foot-to-table restaurants. I struggled to find both in this town. My first night, a local shop owner pointed me towards a nearby burger joint and there I went, resigned to what I assumed would be a week of mediocre meals.

I admit that I was pleasantly surprised by the place. I enjoyed a local IPA, recommended by the

Burger, Fries, Beer. It was fine.

bartender. The lamb burger with tzatziki and olive relish was terrific. Even the fries were pretty darn good. But, it was still a burger, beer, and fries. When I travel, I try not to eat food that I can readily get at home.

I did strike up a conversation with a woman at the bar. I noticed that the bartender knew her by name, implying that she was a local. She was. Her name is Julie, and she had some great recommendations for me.

Her number one favorite place is Milk Tooth. She raved about this place. It’s a farm-to-table style diner and there is usually a wait. Score! I went there for lunch today and had what might be the best

Ridiculous iced coffee with
carrot and lemongrass.

meal of my life (and I’ve eaten at a two-Michelin star restaurant in the south of France). Even the coffees were fantastic, both complex, and flavorful. I enjoyed an iced Spice Trade: espresso, ginger, and lemongrass, topped with carrot, clove, and cardamom, shaken over ice. It sounds weird (carrot? in coffee?), but was divine.

My meal was even more unusual and yet comforting at the same time. I enjoyed a Spanish manchego & grapefruit dutch baby pancake with shaved brussel sprouts, shallots, hazlenuts, and sherry vinaigrette. I had no idea what a dutch baby pancake was, and I didn’t care. I had to eat this.

I knew it would be too much food but couldn’t resist adding a sour cream and maple roasted sweet potato biscuit, topped with cranberry butter and pomegranate seeds.

I still can’t believe I got to eat such wonderful, delicious food. The only downside to the meal is that

Maple sour cream sweet potato biscuit
with cranberry butter, and that dutch
baby pancake. I ate every bite. 

it was pouring rain so I had to call an Uber rather than walk the 1.3 miles back to the hotel. House later I still needed a nap.

The next day, after my conference was done was for the afternoon, I hit the streets. The sun finally came out after three days of rain and I couldn’t wait to walk the 1.3 miles to Julie’s second recommendation: Blue Beard. This is a farm to table style restaurant featuring craft cocktails with a menu that changes daily. I got there right when they opened and took a seat at the bar.

The next thing I know, the woman sitting next to me was my new best friend. She offered to let me

Steak tartare and the best cauliflower
I've ever had. Note the blueberry
cocktail. 

taste her cocktail (it was fantastic), and I returned the favor. We chatted a bit, off and on. She was delightful. She was also a proud mama – her daughter is one of the owners of the restaurant, and the chef. She sat on my left while a gentleman in a business suit sat on my right and nursed a drink while he waited for his companion. We also struck up a conversation. He spent his career as a sound engineer (if memory serves) and has been to every city in the US with a population greater than 250,000.

Chatting with my new friends was delightful, and after Ramona and

Bee's Knees.

I said our goodbyes, a couple sat down in her place and were lovely as well. I don’t know if it was the venue, the city culture, or that I’m getting better at getting out of my introvert box, but I don’t recall having such delightful conversations with folks at a bar pretty much ever.

And – the food. I enjoyed roasted cauliflower that was heaven in a bowl, and steak tartare that easily rivals the tartare I had in Paris. I washed that down with a house-designed blueberry cocktail and then a Bee’s Knees, which might be my new favorite drink.

The restaurant has a Kurt Vonnegut theme,
and it was Good Friday. My check was
presented inside the front cover.
That's my credit card peeking out on
the left. 

I happily walked back to the hotel, quite pleased with myself. I knew the good food was here somewhere. I just had to find it.

Small acts of (human) kindness

My sister lived in Japan for two years in the mid-nineties, teaching English to junior high school students. I was lucky enough to get to visit. For two weeks, we walked or took the train everywhere we went. This was my first trip out of the country, and I’m glad that it was to someplace so different than home. The language barrier was notable not just in terms of being able to speak it, which I couldn’t, but because I couldn’t read it, either. For the first time in my life, I knew what it was like to be illiterate.

When we stepped off the plane, my dad, younger sister, and I had no idea where to go, or how to ask for help. Absent any other options, we simply followed the rest of the people from the plane. Everyone seemed to be going in the same direction, so we did, too. Eventually, the pathway stopped at a dead end. At least two dozen people all stood facing a glass wall. No one spoke. My dad and I exchanged a nervous look. We waited.

After a few minutes, a train pulled up, and the sliding glass door opened to allow us to board. A-ha! We grinned, and stepped onto the train.

I found that, throughout the two weeks, when in doubt of my surroundings, the keys for working through unusual circumstances were to a) not panic, and b) watch what everyone else is doing and try to follow along.

Walking in Nagahama. (That's me
in the pink.)

At one point on the trip, we were out and about walking along the street when it started to rain. We were both unprepared and unconcerned. We were going places in Japan! A little rain wasn’t going to stop us.

Suddenly, a little old lady came running out of her home, yelling something to us in Japanese and offering an umbrella. We were confused. My sister explained that it is Japanese custom to share umbrellas. If you need one, and see one outside of someone’s front door, for example, it’s okay to take it. When you’re done with it, simply pass it along to someone else, or leave it outside your own front door.

This baffled my dad and me. But, don’t people want their property back? No, my sister said. It’s the culture. Umbrellas are cheap yet useful so people simply share them.

We thanked the lady, accepted the umbrella, and were on our way. What an amazing thing, we exclaimed! Such a simple act of kindness yet it makes so much sense.

Walking in Reykjavik.

Years later, I was walking about in Reykjavik, Iceland. My friend and I noticed some gloves on top of a gate, and I stopped to take a picture. An Icelander walked by and explained that this was Icelandic custom. If you find a lost glove on the ground, you place it somewhere up high, like a gate or a windowsill, so that it's visible and will hopefully be reunited with its owner.

What a lovely, thoughtful thing to be so engrained in one’s culture, I thought. Rather than throwing away a single glove, people will do what is reasonable to try to help its owner reclaim it.

Regional touches like these are one of my favorite things about travel. They are so unique to each culture, yet are united and grounded in universal human kindness. I wonder what cultural touches of human kindness visitors to the States take home with them.